Meeting Vivian
by jh728
Summary: Vivian Martine meets the Runway crew and others. This is a sequel to my story The Thirteenth Floor.
1. Miranda

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to _The Devil Wears Prada _or any of its characters. Vivian, however, is mine.

**Note:** In my story The Thirteenth floor, I introduced Vivian Martine. Punky and a few other readers wanted to know more about Vivian and how she met Miranda. So this story was born. It would probably make more sense if you read The Thirteenth Floor first.

Thank you Punky for looking this over. Any and all mistakes are mine.

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**Chapter 1 – Miranda**

_1986_

Miranda Priestly, Editor in Chief of Runway magazine, strode down the dusty hallway of the thirteenth floor of the Elias-Clarke building. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered. This, as far as she was concerned, was insanity. A long time Runway employee had come to her two weeks ago and told her a ghost story. Miranda had been shocked by the audaciousness of the woman. Not only did she expect Miranda to believe her tale but she asked that Miranda perform a monthly ritual.

"I should have fired her as soon as she opened her mouth." Miranda pursed her lips and took a right when the hallway came to a T as she remembered the meeting.

_Two weeks prior_

"Miranda, Linda Compton is here." Emily Travis, first assistant, stood just inside her boss' office and waited.

Miranda set down her pen and pushed away the document she had been reviewing. "Send her in." She watched as the gray haired woman nervously entered and then at her gesture took a seat in front of the desk. Miranda folded her hands on the desktop. She had met the woman once five months ago. Shortly after she was named Editor in Chief, she made a point of going around and meeting each and every employee. Linda Compton, copy editor, was the oldest employee on staff and due to retire soon.

"How can I help you, Linda?" Miranda tilted her head and studied the woman.

"I realize what I'm going to say will sound crazy. All that I ask is that you hear me out." Linda chewed her bottom lip and sighed with relief when Miranda gave her a brief nod. "I'm retiring in a few months. I was one of the first people hired by Vivian Martine in 1947 when she became editor in chief. Vivian was the finest editor to ever guide Runway." When Miranda narrowed her eyes, Linda hurried to continue. "Of course, that was before you arrived."

Linda swallowed and hoped what she said next didn't get her thrown out. "After Vivian died, I visited her office on the thirteenth floor. We were in the process of moving everyone up here to seventeen. Maintenance was coming in the next day to take the furniture. Her personal belongings had been sent to her sister." Linda paused remembering that day. "I wanted a couple of minutes to reflect and say goodbye." Swallowing the lump in her throat, she continued in a rush, "Vivian's ghost appeared to me."

Miranda glared at her visitor. "Is this some kind of joke?" Her voice was low and cold.

"No, Miranda. Vivian is still on the thirteenth floor. She never left." Linda wrung her hands.

"This is a prank. Was it your idea or did someone put you up to this? Is it because I'm new to the position?" Miranda stood and leaned over her desk incensed. "The staff isn't happy with the changes I've made so they decided to send you in here with some ridiculous ghost story."

Linda jumped up and shook her head. "No one else knows about this. I've been visiting Vivian for over 23 years. Every month I bring her the latest Runway magazine. We chat about Runway."

Miranda pushed away from her desk and turned towards the windows. "I've heard enough."

Linda shifted from foot to foot as she tried to explain. "The building management has never been able to rent out the thirteenth floor. Every time they try and show it, Vivian drives them away. She doesn't allow anyone but me and the occasional security guard to visit. The only reason she doesn't bother security is because they just check that there are no problems and leave."

Finally, sinking back down into the visitor chair Linda bowed her head. "I have nothing to gain by telling you this. I'm going to retire and never come back. It's Vivian I'm worried about. She'll be all alone."

Miranda turned and leaned against the windowsill. "So you tell me this preposterous story so that I'll take a magazine down to an empty floor?" She crossed her arms and frowned at the older woman.

"You and Vivian have a lot in common." When Miranda snorted, Linda nodded. "You do. Vivian was the last hope for Runway in 1947. If she couldn't turn the magazine around, it was going to go under. You were also brought in to save Runway."

Miranda shook her head. "I have no idea why I am even listening to this. Go! I've reviewed your personnel file. You've been an outstanding copy editor and model employee. My retirement present to you is to not fire you immediately."

Linda's shoulders drooped and she slowly stood. Before she left the office she took one last look. Miranda's adamant expression said it all. She would have to tell Vivian that she failed.

xxx

Miranda patted the pocket of her suit jacket to assure herself that the note was still there. A few days after her meeting with Linda, she found an envelope marked '_To be opened by Miranda Priestly_' on her desk. It contained a letter from Linda Compton with a final plea for understanding. Linda spelled out directions for finding Vivian's office. She explained that the freight elevator was the only access. When the main elevators were refurbished last year the button for the thirteenth floor was removed. The stairs weren't an option either because the stairwell doors were locked for security purposes.

Another week passed before Miranda finally gave in. Linda's desperate plea, gnawed at her. It played on a small kernel of curiosity buried deep within. Not wanting any witnesses, she waited until everyone had gone for the day before making the trek. She followed Linda's directions and finally found herself entering a large open area. On the other side was a brightly lit office. Miranda felt a trickle of unease chase down her spine. This was some absurd and elaborate joke. It was the only explanation for there to be one shining spot on this dark floor.

Miranda narrowed her eyes and glared at the light spilling out of the open doorway. She would confront the pranksters and exact her revenge. Angry now, she stalked towards the office and barely paused before striding through the office door. Miranda came to a stop behind the visitor chairs in front of a glass-topped desk. With her hands on her hips she could hardly believe how bright and well decorated the space was.

Her attention had just settled on the leather desk chair when a petite woman with gunmetal gray hair popped into existence.

"Boo," Vivian whispered. She watched as Miranda grabbed the back of the visitor chair. It looked as if the young woman was going to faint. Her face drained of color and she barely avoided collapsing to the floor. Vivian waved towards the chair. "You better sit down before you fall down."

Holding on to the back of the chair with one hand Miranda slid around to the side and eased down. "You, you're, you're," she stuttered.

Vivian smiled slyly. "My name is Vivian Martine. You are Miranda Priestly. It is good to finally meet you."

Miranda stared wide-eyed at the ghost unable to speak intelligibly. Her lips moved but no words came out. Finally, she clamped her mouth shut and took a deep breath. "I owe Linda an apology," she whispered.

"Yes, you do." Vivian tilted her head and studied the young blonde. The improvement in her color seemed to indicate that Miranda was regaining her composure. "I'm glad I warned the girls that you might show up. They don't appreciate uninvited guests."

Miranda's eyes darted left and right. "Girls? There are others here? Linda only told me about you."

Vivian pulled her chair out from her desk and sat. "Linda didn't know about the girls. They're a bit shy unless they feel threatened." She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. "Then they can be quite creative in their methods of driving visitors away."

Miranda swallowed. "Linda mentioned that no one will lease space on this floor. Are they the reason?" She glanced over her shoulder checking that no one was behind her chair.

"Yes, but don't worry you're safe. I'll introduce you someday and let them tell their story." Vivian smirked at Miranda's frown and waved her hand. "Enough about me. I was very impressed when the Board named you Editor in Chief. Being the youngest ever to lead Runway, I can only imagine what you are dealing with. How has it been so far?"

Shaking her head, Miranda could only stare wide-eyed at her predecessor. "There are good days and bad," she said slowly.

"You've made some hard choices." Vivian gestured to the magazine on her desk. "There has been a marked improvement already. Congratulations."

Miranda reached up and started to fiddle with her necklace. "Thank you. I had to fire the incompetent and scare the rest into doing their jobs."

"I was ecstatic to hear you sacked the former Art Director. From what I heard he was a pompous, condescending prick. Is the new guy working out?" Vivian leaned forward and rested her clasped hands on her desk.

"Yes," Miranda sighed happily. "Nigel Kipling and I share a similar vision for Runway. He has been very supportive and we've become friends."

Vivian raised an eyebrow. "Anything more than that?"

"No, I'm not Nigel's type," Miranda smirked. "He's a good man and he'll become a great Art Director."

Vivian and Miranda spent the next three hours talking about Runway. Miranda was able to talk about the plans she kept from everyone. Vivian told stories of what it was like when she was Editor in Chief. When Miranda finally glanced at her watch, she was surprised how much time had passed. She reluctantly said goodbye and promised to stop by again.

The next day Miranda had her assistant send Linda Compton a flower arrangement. A hand written card was included with the bouquet. It read – _"Congratulations on your upcoming retirement. You have been a valued member of the Runway family and you will be missed. A mutual friend asked that I also extend her appreciation for your friendship. Miranda Priestly"_

Miranda made a habit of dropping in and talking with Vivian once or twice a week. They discussed ideas for photo shoots, working with difficult designers, and some of the latest fashions failures along with a myriad of other topics. Since she was so new to her position, Miranda felt she had to prove herself everyday to her staff and to the Elias-Clarke board. Vivian was able to provide honest feedback and insight into what was required as Editor in Chief.

One night Miranda was getting ready to leave after visiting with Vivian when she paused at the office door. "I was wondering. Would you be interested in meeting Nigel?"

Vivian smiled as she gave a brief nod. "I would love to meet him." She stood and came around her desk. "I'll let the girls know that we may have another visitor."

Miranda continued out of the office. "I'll see you soon then."


	2. Nigel

**Chapter 2 – Nigel**

_1986_

Nigel hurried to catch up to Miranda's striding form. She had breezed into his office minutes before and demanded that he follow her. Without further explanation Miranda turned on her heel and stalked out heading towards the back hallway and the freight elevator. He shook his head as he rushed. 'Never a dull moment,' he thought. Once they were ensconced in the elevator car Nigel ran his fingers through his thinning brown hair as he wondered what was going on.

Miranda stared at the dull metal doors as they slowly descended. "Not long ago I met someone. It's time I introduce you." She adjusted her necklace as she considered what she could say to prepare her friend. "She's a little different." Miranda straightened her jacket as she bit her lip.

"Okay?" Still clueless, Nigel's eyes were drawn to the display counting down the floors. He was surprised when they stopped at the thirteenth floor.

Once again Nigel had to hurry to keep pace with Miranda. He barely had time to notice the dark, dusty corridor lit by emergency lights before passing through a large open area that was equally dim and dirty. When Miranda paused he almost ran into the woman. They were standing outside of a brightly lit office. "How strange," he murmured.

Miranda glanced at Nigel gesturing for him to follow. She glided to a stop in front of a glass-topped desk and waited.

Nigel's mouth dropped open as he took in the bright airy office. He was admiring the view from the window behind the desk when a petite woman with gunmetal grey hair winked into existence.

The woman crossed her arms and whispered, "Boo." She smirked at the high-pitched scream and the sight of the fashionably dressed man running from her office.

"What are you? Twelve?" Miranda rolled her eyes.

"I was just having a bit of fun." Vivian pouted.

Miranda rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I'll bring him back." She pointed a finger and glared at the ghost. "Be nice!" She turned and went after her Art Director.

She found Nigel leaning against the wall frantically pushing the call button for the freight elevator. Miranda pursed her lips and tried to decide how to make amends to her only friend. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I did tell you she was different."

Nigel whirled around. "Different? Miranda, different is orange hair, a questionable taste in fashion, or having an armadillo as a pet!" He fluttered his hand towards the hall. "A ghost or, or spirit is a great deal more than DIFFERENT!"

Miranda threw her hands in the air. "I didn't know what to say! I suppose I could have started off with Nigel Kipling I would like to introduce you to Vivian Martine, former Editor in Chief of Runway magazine. By the way, she's dead!"

Nigel slapped his hand over his mouth. He knew that name. In fact, he should have recognized the woman. Her picture, like those of the previous Editors in Chief, was hanging on a wall in Runway's lobby.

Glaring at her friend, Miranda started pacing back and forth before turning towards Nigel. "Linda Compton told me about Vivian a few weeks ago. I didn't believe her but I was curious, so I came down here." Miranda crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"Linda, the copy editor who is retiring?" Nigel rubbed his chin and watched his friend.

"Yes. She's been visiting Vivian for years. With her retirement she worried that Vivian would become lonely." Miranda shrugged one shoulder and stared at the floor.

"So she asked you to do what? Ghost sit?" Nigel moved next to Miranda and leaned against the wall with her, shoulder to shoulder.

"She just asked that I deliver a copy of the magazine each month." Miranda played with her necklace. "Vivian's a fascinating woman. She accomplished what I have hopes of doing." At Nigel's curious look, she continued. "She was able to turn a failing magazine into a success. When Vivian became Editor in Chief no one believed that Runway could be saved."

Nigel nodded slowly. "Much like now. You were brought in as a last chance for Runway."

"Yes." Miranda sighed. "I've come to enjoy talking to her. I appreciate her insight." She nudged Nigel's shoulder. "You've become a good friend but …"

Nigel gave Miranda a small smile. "But there are some things I just cannot understand in the same way that Vivian can." When Miranda nodded Nigel took a deep breath. "Fine, let's go back and you can properly introduce us."

They started back down the hallway. "If she says '_boo_' again, I'm out of here," Nigel muttered darkly.

xxx

Vivian was staring out the window when Nigel tapped on the door to her office. Turning, she smiled at her visitor. "Hello, Nigel. Come in."

Nigel waved the latest issue of Runway as he entered the office. "Miranda is out of town and asked that I drop this off." He placed the magazine on the glass-topped desk.

"Thank you. Please, sit down." Vivian relaxed back against the windowsill. "How have you been? I was just thinking back to our first meeting."

Shaking his head, Nigel gave her a wry grin. "I'm fine, thank you. That was a memorable first impression. How did Miranda react the first time? Did she scream and run like a little girl?" Nigel sat in one of the chairs in front of Vivian's desk. He crossed his legs and brushed some dust off his trousers. For the last six months he made a habit of visiting Vivian at least once a week. They chatted about photo shoots, layouts, and Runway business.

"Oh, no," Vivian answered blithely.

"The bitch." Nigel huffed as he folded his arms across his chest and glared at his feet.

"Well, she did go pale and clutch the back of the chair you're sitting in. My guess is that she barely kept from fainting." Vivian smirked as she remembered the meeting.

"Really?" Nigel uncrossed his arms and sat up a little straighter. "Considering this is Miranda we're discussing that is a major reaction."

Vivian chuckled as she returned to her desk and sat down. "She does seem to take self control to a whole new level."

Nigel nodded. "You have no idea. The papers have started to refer to her as Ice Queen." He frowned as he stared into space. "It's a shame really. We go out occasionally and she is very careful of the image she projects. I have never seen her just cut loose and have fun."

Shrugging, the former editor pulled the magazine closer. "It can be an unfortunate consequence of being a business woman in a man's world." Vivian sighed. "Miranda is fortunate to have you as a colleague and friend. I spent most of my career driving people away." She lowered her head and started to page though the magazine.

"Vivian?" Nigel leaned forward in his seat. "After our first meeting, I did a little research." He waited for the ghost to look up. "A friend of mine works at the Times. He gave me copies of the newspaper articles covering your funeral." Nigel watched as Vivian stood and moved towards the windows.

"Linda told me it was a beautiful service. Before she could say anything else, I cut her off." She turned and looked out the window. "I was very angry and didn't want to hear about a beautiful service in an empty church."

Nigel eased out of his chair and joined Vivian at the window. "The church was far from empty. The newspaper accounts said that hundreds paid their respects. The articles painted a picture of a caring, hardworking woman." When Vivian shot him a disbelieving look, he nodded.

"They interviewed your sister. She told them that although you were busy, you always had time for her. You were with her when her son was born because her husband was stationed in Hawaii and wasn't able to come home on leave." Nigel gestured to Vivian's dress. "She said that this was your favorite dress and that you treasured those pearls because they were a gift from your father."

Vivian turned and stared out of the window. "My sister was always generous."

Nigel mirrored her pose. "Be that as it may, several designers were also interviewed. They told stories of how you encouraged them and helped their careers. Many said they owed their success to you." It started raining outside and Nigel traced the drops as they ran down the glass. "Runway offices were closed for the day of the funeral. Several Runway employees said you were only as hard on them as you were on yourself. More than a few of your former employees went on to have distinguished careers in publishing. Again, they said they owed it all to you."

After several minutes of silence, Nigel whispered his goodbyes and turned to leave. Before he exited the office he heard a quiet _thank you_.

Three days later Vivian popped into her office. She and the models had been re-creating a particularly interesting photo shoot. She was surprised to find a folder centered in the middle of her desk. As soon as she opened the folder she dropped into her chair. There were copies of newspaper articles covering her funeral and her obituary. The interviews with her sister, designers, and colleagues were just as Nigel described. If she had been able to cry, the papers would have been soaked with her tears. One article reported on a generous donation made in Vivian's name to the Fashion Institute of Technology. Elias-Clarke Publishing stated that this would be an annual donation.

Finally, the last items in the folder were two color photographs. The first was a picture of two gray granite headstones decorated with fresh flowers. The larger monument was carved with the names Charles and Laura Martine and the dates of their births and deaths. The second was inscribed Vivian Martine, Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Mentor. A second photo showed the back of the headstone. It was inscribed Editor-In-Chief, Runway Magazine, July 1947 – October 1963. A post-it note was stuck to the corner of the picture – _You made a difference. In fact, you still do. N._


	3. Emily

**Chapter 3 – Emily**

"Hey, Em." Andy Sachs strolled up behind her friend, Emily Charlton, Assistant Accessories Editor. "What are you doing down here?" They were currently in the Runway Museum and Emily was standing over Vivian Martine's glass-topped desk.

"Hiding from Serena." Emily mumbled as she absently flipped through the magazine left on top of the desk.

"Why? I thought you guys were getting along great." Andy reached over and rubbed Emily's shoulder.

"For now." Emily closed the magazine and pushed it back across the desk. "Serena could have anyone in the world. One of these days she's going to realize that." She moved across the room to gaze unseeing at one of the oversized Runway covers hung on the wall.

"Emily," Andy sighed. "What brought this on? Did Serena say something?"

The red head chewed her lip and shook her head.

"Then what?" Andy tilted her head and studied her friend.

"We went out the other night. No one could keep their eyes off her." Emily's shoulders slumped. "She's brilliant, beautiful, and comes from a wealthy family. What can I give her?"

Andy felt a wave of sympathy at Emily's defeated expression. "You could give her your heart." She patted her friend on the back. "Just talk to her Em. Give Serena a chance. You're giving up for no reason."

"I suppose." Emily shrugged and made an effort to throw off her bad mood. "So what are you doing here?" She asked. "Did Miranda kick you out of her office?"

Andy grinned and bumped shoulders with the red head. "No, I'm actually here to work."

Emily turned and stared at Andy with exaggerated shock. "Please tell me you are not Miranda's new second assistant."

"Yes, and you are going to be the new first." Andy tried to keep a serious expression but started giggling at Emily's outraged look.

"Bloody fool." Emily shoved her friend's shoulder.

Andy smiled and returned the favor. "Nigel asked that I write an article about Vivian Martine. I came down here to get in the mood." If she had been the only one in the museum, she had planned to interview Vivian.

"Nigel mentioned he had an idea for a story." Emily moved back towards Vivian's desk. "From what I read on the displays here, she was a fascinating woman."

Andy wandered over towards the windows. "Yes, she was. I have an appointment with Vivian's great nephew. Vivian's sister had a few of her things and some newspaper articles that she passed down to her son. Now her grandson has them."

Emily ran her fingers across the glass-topped desk. "I wish I could have met her." As she raised her head to say something to Andy, Vivian popped into view.

"Boo," Vivian whispered.

"Aieee." Emily screamed and ran for the exit.

"Damn it, Vivian!" Andy stamped her foot.

"That never gets old." Vivian grinned and rubbed her hands together.

"Are you twelve?" Andy glared as she put her fists on her hips.

Vivian opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. "If you hurry, you can probably catch her at the elevator." She smirked as she watched Andy blow out a disgusted breath and take off after Emily.

When Andy caught up to Emily the red head was leaning against the wall near the freight elevators. "Em?" She slowly approached the pale, panting woman.

"Was that?" Emily gasped and stared back down the hall.

"Yeah." Andy shrugged and fluffed her bangs. "Vivian has a warped sense of humor."

"You knew!" Emily pointed her finger at Andy. "You knew she was there."

"Umm, yes?" Andy chewed her lip and took a step back.

"Why didn't you say something?" Glaring at her friend, Emily pushed off the wall.

"It's not something that comes up in normal conversation, Em." Andy ran her fingers through her hair. "I met Vivian a few weeks before I left."

"Does Miranda know?" At Andy's slow nod Emily huffed. "Nigel?" When Andy gave her a sickly smile she rolled her eyes. "The rest of Runway?"

Andy quickly shook her head. "No, just the three, ahh, four of us."

"Brilliant," Emily sneered.

"Would you like to really meet Vivian?" Andy watched Emily consider the invitation. "She won't scare you again." Biting her lip, Andy rolled her eyes. 'At least I hope not,' she thought.

Emily swallowed and stood up straight. "Yes, yes I think I would."

"Great, come on." Andy led her friend back towards the museum. "Maybe someday you can meet the girls."

It took several steps before Andy realized Emily wasn't behind her. When she glanced back, Emily was frozen in place, wide-eyed and pale.

"There are more?" Emily whispered.

Andy walked back and grabbed Emily's hand. "Don't worry. They're mostly harmless."

She ignored the strange expression on Emily's face as she dragged her friend back down the hall.


	4. Serena

**Chapter 4 – Serena**

Serena pushed through the glass door into the Runway museum. It had been a long day and she wanted to spend a little time wandering around the exhibits to wind down before heading home. Hearing voices she made her way towards Vivian Martine's recreated office. Emily and Andy were looking at something on the glass-topped desk.

"Andy, Emily what are you doing here?" Serena came up behind the young women and peered over Emily's shoulder.

"Hey, Serena. I was just showing Emily the documents I got from Vivian Martine's great nephew." Andy picked up one of the pictures and passed it to Serena. "This was taken after Vivian graduated college."

Serena admired the young woman's picture before passing it back to Andy. "She was very beautiful. I would have liked to have met her."

Emily's eyes practically bugged out and Andy's mouth dropped open in shock. Before either could shout a warning a petite woman with gunmetal gray hair appeared behind the glass-topped desk.

"Boo," Vivian whispered. She crossed her arms and watched the women's reactions.

Serena grabbed the back of one of the visitor chairs to keep from falling down.

Emily whipped around and threw her arms around the blonde to keep her upright. "Bloody hell, Vivian. Do you have to scare everyone you meet?" Emily glared at the ghost briefly before turning her attention to Serena. "It's okay. She really is quite nice once you get to know her."

Serena let go of the chair back and wrapped her arms around Emily relaxing into the embrace. After a minute with her face tucked into Emily's neck, Serena stiffened and pulled back. "You're friends with a ghost? Why didn't you tell me?" She let go of Emily and took a step back.

"I'm sorry." Emily winced. "It's not something that comes up in normal conversation." When she realized where she heard those words before Emily rolled her eyes and shot Andy an apologetic glance. Taking a deep breath she gestured towards the ghost. "Serena, may I introduce Vivian Martine, former Editor in Chief of Runway magazine. Vivian, this is Serena. She is the head of Runway's Beauty Department."

Serena nodded towards Vivian. "How do you do, Ms. Martine."

Vivian tilted her head and studied the statuesque blonde. "Please, call me Vivian. It is a pleasure to meet you, Serena. Emily has spoken highly of you."

"Thank you." Serena waved at the pictures and documents littering the desk. "I should be going. You're busy."

Vivian came around her desk. "Andy is going to interview me for an article she's writing. You're welcome to stay, but I'm not sure how interesting it will be. Just a lot of facts and dates."

Andy nudged Emily. When Emily glared at her, Andy jerked her head towards Serena.

Finally catching a clue, Emily reached for Serena's hand as the blonde turned to leave. "We should probably leave these two at it. Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Serena looked down at their joined hands. "I don't know. I was under the impression that you were avoiding me," she said sadly.

Emily rubbed her forehead. "I'm an idiot. Please have dinner with me," she pleaded.

When Serena gave her a slow nod, Emily sighed with relief. "Andy, Vivian, I'll see you later," she said without taking her eyes off of Serena's shy smile.

"Well, that went well." Vivian watched Emily and Serena walk out of the museum hand in hand.

Andy crossed her arms over her chest and stared suspiciously at Vivian. She thought the ghost seemed awfully smug. The former editor smirked and with a wave of her hand, disappeared.

"Hey!" Andy threw her hands up. "What about the interview?"

The scent of Chanel No. 5 tickled Andy's nose and a husky voice whispered _another time_ in her ear.

_Two days prior_

Serena held up the hanger holding a black silk and chiffon cocktail dress. She lightly ran her fingers over the material admiring the way the light played across the crystals decorating the bodice. Pausing she turned her head to glance over her shoulder. Knowing she wasn't alone she carefully returned the dress to its place and turned around.

No one was visible but she felt someone near. "You can show yourself," she said softly. Serena waited patiently and within moments a petite woman with gunmetal gray hair wearing a navy sheath and pearls appeared out of thin air. "Hello." Serena smiled as she studied her visitor.

"Well," Vivian put her hands on her hips. "Finally, someone who doesn't run screaming into the night."

Serena laughed and waved her hand towards the windows at the far end of the room. "It is only noon. Would you prefer to come back later and try again?"

Vivian stared at the remarkably beautiful woman with the sexy accent. "Not necessary. My name is Vivian Martine." She dipped her head in greeting.

"Serena," she responded. "I hoped we would meet."

Shaking her head, Vivian crossed her arms. "Did Andy tell you about me?" She was intrigued by this woman's response.

"Oh, no." Serena tilted her head and studied the spirit. "My Grandmother had special gifts. She said I was like her in that way. I've felt you whenever I visited the Museum." She paused and looked around the room. "There are others here. Are they shy?"

Vivian's eyebrows shot up. "Not really. They're just very private." She considered for a moment before deciding to call her friends. "Girls it's okay."

Six young women appeared clustered behind Vivian. They gawked at Serena with a mixture of shock and surprise.

Serena inclined her head to the new arrivals. "It is a pleasure to meet you ladies."

The models smiled, a couple waved shyly, and then they disappeared one by one.

Vivian raised one eyebrow as she watched the last model vanish. "It may seem strange but these days they prefer being unseen," she explained. "They only modeled a short time before ..." Vivian sighed and turned back to Serena.

"I've seen you down here many times. You're dating Emily." Vivian was surprised when Serena's expression fell.

"For now," Serena whispered. "I don't think Emily is really interested in me." She turned back towards the clothes rack and started flipping through the dresses as she tried to regain her composure.

"What? Of course she's interested in you." Vivian moved around to catch Serena's eye. "I've heard her talking to Andy."

Her hands stilled, Serena's eyes brightened as she glanced at Vivian. "Really?"

Vivian nodded. "Oh, yes. If anything, Emily is a little insecure. She doesn't consider herself good enough for you."

Frustrated, Serena rubbed her forehead. "She's perfect. I've tried to tell her so." She shook her head and looked at Vivian. "How can I get through to her?"

A slow smile spread across Vivian's face. "I have an idea." At Serena's hopeful expression, she gestured for the woman to follow. "Let's step into my office."


	5. The Thief

**Chapter 5 – The Thief**

Emily climbed down the stepstool and started searching the middle cubby. Nigel and Miranda, in their infinite wisdom, decided the red leather Marc Jacobs bag featured in last month's magazine would be perfect for the Vera Wang shoot tomorrow. The only problem? The damn bag was missing! She had been tearing through the handbag room of the Closet for over an hour.

She normally enjoyed spending time in the neatly organized room. The floor to ceiling storage cubes took up three of the four walls. The fourth wall contained the glass doors that allowed entry. Each cubby held one or two handbags, totes, clutches, or the occasional backpack. Unfortunately, there was no red textured leather Marc Jacobs satchel.

"Bollocks!" Emily grabbed a gold clutch and flung it at the far wall.

"Hey!" Andy Sachs caught the flying leather missile before it smacked her in the forehead. "What the hell, Em?"

Emily grimaced and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Andy. I'm just so frustrated." The red head looked at her friend and froze. "Is that?" She pointed to the large handbag her friend was carrying.

"Yeah." Andy gazed lovingly at the red handbag as she caressed the textured leather. "I saw it in last month's _Runway_ and fell in love. When I sold that series on women in government I decided to splurge. It really was too much but I couldn't help myself."

Emily's shoulders slumped as she realized this was not her missing bag.

"What?" Andy asked with a confused look on her face.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Emily waved toward the cubbies. "I can't find _Runway_'s Marc Jacobs bag. I've looked everywhere and when I saw you come in with that." She shrugged and took the clutch out of Andy's hands and returned it to where it belonged.

"You thought Nigel or Miranda gave me the bag." Andy nodded in understanding. "I have the credit card receipt from Saks if it would make you feel better."

Emily waved off the offer. "If either of them had given you the bag, they wouldn't be asking me to provide it for a photo shoot."

"Did you check the inventory system?" Andy fluffed her bangs and looked around the room.

"That's the icing on the cake. There is no record of it ever being here." Emily crossed her arms and glared at her friend.

"Whoa. Sorry, Em." Andy took a step back. "Did you call Eric?"

"Eric?" Emily looked at Andy suspiciously.

"The head of the IT department," Andy explained. "He can check the system logs and see who deleted the record and when."

Emily perked up for the first time that afternoon. "He can do that?"

Andy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, give him a call. While he does some digging, I'll help you search the rest of the closet. If we don't come up with anything, then I'll let you borrow my bag."

The friends were searching the shoe room when Emily's phone rang. "Yes," she barked. As she listened she felt her face flush. Her lips moved with silent curses. "Fine!" Emily stabbed the button to disconnect.

"What's up?" Andy asked.

Emily considered pitching her phone like she did the clutch. "Tina, that bitch!" Emily stamped her foot and contemplated murder. "She removed the inventory record this morning."

Andy eased up next Emily. "Okay. So maybe the bag is still here someplace. Do you know where Tina is?"

Emily took a deep breath and blew it out. "Tina and the others are helping with the Central Park shoot. If she just removed the record this morning the bag could still be here. But where?" She ran her fingers through her hair as she thought.

"I have an idea." Andy tilted her head back and called for help. "Vivian."

The petite woman/ghost appeared between Andy and Emily. "Yes?"

"Vivian, we need your help finding something." Andy gestured toward Emily.

"Right, a Marc Jacobs red leather handbag has gone missing. There is a good chance that it is still in the Closet somewhere, hidden." Emily put her hands on her hips and ran her gaze over the shelves of shoes.

Vivian raised an eyebrow and stared pointedly at Andy.

"Hey, this is mine. I bought it a week ago." Andy opened the bag and started digging through the interior. "I have the credit card receipt. I swear."

Emily rolled her eyes and flipped her hand toward Andy as the young woman continued to paw through her handbag. "Ignore her. One of the women working here deleted the bag's inventory record this morning. Since she is out at a shoot I'm hoping she hasn't had time to remove it from the premises."

Vivian nodded her understanding. "Let me call the girls. I'm sure they would be happy to help. Ladies?" The six ghost models appeared on either side of Vivian. "Emily needs our help," she explained. "A red Marc Jacobs bag is missing and may be hidden somewhere in the closet."

As one, the models turned and stared accusingly at Andy.

"No, this is mine!" Frantic, Andy waved the credit card receipt in front of the ghosts.

Vivian smirked and shook her head. "Please see if you can locate another bag just like it." The models nodded as they disappeared.

"Thanks, Vivian," Emily sighed.

Andy pulled out her phone to check the time. "I've got to get going. I'm meeting Miranda for lunch." Emily opened her mouth to say something but stopped when Andy raised her hand. "I won't say anything about the missing bag. Accessories are your gig." Andy waved as she hurried on her way.

Emily was surprised when one of the models, she thought her name was Tess, appeared not ten minutes after Andy had gone.

"The bag is in one of the employee lockers in the break room." Tess watched Emily grit her teeth before muttering under her breath.

Emily wondered why Tess backed away before she realized she must look a little scary when she was angry. Just wait until she caught up with the thief. She'd show that bitch scary.

After Tess disappeared, Vivian walked with Emily to the employee lounge. As they entered the lounge they saw Gina sticking her head through one of the locker doors. Rest of the models gathered around as Gina pulled back and nodded.

Emily shuddered but her disquiet turned to rage when she read the label on the locker door – Tina Simpson. "That bitch," she muttered.

"Emily?" Vivian raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Sorry." Emily glared at the locker. "I should contact security but how do I tell them that I know where the damned bag is hiding."

Vivian smirked as she looked at the girls. "We may be able to help you. Inform security of the theft and have them search Tina when she leaves."

Emily tilted her head as she considered what Vivian was not saying. "What are you going to do?" She immediately held up her hand. "On second thought, don't tell me. I'm going to get a picture of the bag from the last shoot and go talk to security." She glanced over her shoulder as she left the lounge and saw Vivian and the models huddled together making plans.

After a quick stop in her office, Emily stood outside the main security office. Since the door was open she knocked on the door frame. Tom Peterson, Security Supervisor, looked up from a report he was reviewing and waved her in. "I have a problem," she said as she sat in one of the visitor chairs in front of the desk. Tom nodded and waited for Emily to explain. "A red leather Marc Jacobs handbag has gone missing and I'm afraid it has been stolen. This is a picture of the bag." She slid the picture across the desk.

Tom picked up the picture, grimaced and rubbed his ear. "I saw Andy Sachs-Priestly earlier with a bag that looks like this one."

Emily shook her head. "No, that's Andy's bag. She has the receipt showing where she bought it."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Fill me in on what you know about the missing bag."

Emily told Tom of her suspicions and about the missing inventory record. She was relieved when he decided that everyone who accessed the closet today would be searched on their way out. The security system was able to provide a printout of employees who used their code to open the Closet doors.

_Meanwhile back at the Closet_

Vivian and the girls refined their plan as they waited for everyone to return from the Central Park photo shoot. When the details were decided, Amanda, the youngest of the models, was sent to watch the elevators. It wasn't long before she popped into the lounge alerting the group to the staff's return.

"It's show time," Vivian whispered.

Bridget and Marla disappeared to play their parts.

Vivian barely restrained herself from following and watching the events unfold. Bridget's specialty was giving someone cold chills and a feeling of dread. It had been an effective tool in the past for driving away potential renters. Vivian was counting on Tina becoming unnerved enough to want to leave work early with the stolen bag. Once Tina was headed to the lounge, Marla would cause some disruption so that the rest of the staff would be too busy to wander into the lounge while the festivities were ongoing.

'How much longer,' Vivian wondered. Then she heard a crash. Smiling, she faded away and waited.

Tina hurried into the lounge and went directly to her locker. She kept looking over her shoulder as if expecting to be followed. It seemed that her fingers weren't as nimble as usual and she had trouble slipping the key into the lock. Flinging the door open she grabbed the Marc Jacobs bag and stuffed it into her oversized tote. She slammed the locker closed and took two steps before the lights dimmed and an eerie fog started rising from the floor.

Vivian watched with an evil grin as the horrified woman froze in the middle of the room. She loved the visual effect of six faceless forms rising from the fog and encircling the thief. Tina was visibly shaking with fear as the models started moaning. Before the woman could gather her wits and bolt, Vivian popped into view at twice her normal size wearing a shapeless black hooded robe.

"You have offended the guardians of the Closet, thief!" Vivian's voice thundered in the small room.

Tina took a step back but the models crowded closer. Her head whipped left and right looking for an escape.

Vivian raised her arms and shifted slightly to one side. "BOOOO!"

The shout spurred Tina to race past the dark form and out of the lounge. Vivian was pleased to see that the woman still held onto her tote with the hidden bag.

Vivian pointed to Denise and watched her disappear. The model returned shortly and reported that Tina was in the elevator on her way to the lobby. Vivian and the models burst into laughter as they faded away.

xxx

Emily and Tom were standing near the security station when Tina burst out of the elevator. At Tom's signal, two guards hurried to intercept the woman. Emily thought Tina seemed relieved to be in custody. After a quick search, the missing bag was found.

"That's my bag," Tina insisted as she glanced over her shoulder.

"Tom, look in the inner zippered pocket. Whenever I use a bag or clutch in a photo shoot I put a card in one of the pockets with the date, photographer's name, and what issue of _Runway_ it will appear. I then sign the back of the card." Emily crossed her arms and watched as Tom pulled a signed index card from the pocket of the handbag.

Emily smirked as Tina wilted with the evidence of her theft.

Before Tom led Tina away Emily held up her hand. "Could you give me a second?" He nodded and took a couple steps back to give the women some privacy. Emily leaned in close, "A friend asked that I tell you something."

At Tina's questioning look, Emily whispered, "Boo."

Tina jumped and turned pale. She kept looking over her shoulder as she was escorted to the security office.

Emily sniffed and started for the elevators. She wondered what she could do for Vivian and the models to show her appreciation.

_Two weeks later_

Emily and Andy watched as the maintenance crew finished setting up the big screen television and related components in the corner of the museum. Emily convinced Andy that a television, DVD player, and cable connection would allow visitors to watch fashion related shows or news. Andy agreed and made the arrangements for today's installation.

"Is this what you had in mind?" Andy smiled as the men gathered their tools.

"Exactly." Emily slipped a DVD into the machine. As soon as the men were gone, she hit play. Music blared as scenes from last year's Paris Fashion Week splashed across the screen. When Emily turned the sound down slightly, she was joined by the models and Vivian. She smiled at the ghostly group. "I thought you might enjoy a little entertainment. My way of saying thanks."

The models beamed as they clustered in front of the television. Vivian winked at Emily and focused on the show.


	6. The Models

**Chapter 6 - The Models**

Andy Sachs sighed as she admired the framed _Runway_ cover hanging on the wall. The cover from July 1963 showed Bridget O'Conner wearing a sleeveless ivory sheath dress. It was the first part of a larger exhibit Andy planned for this section of the _Runway_ Museum. As she stepped back to take in the rest of the display, she was joined by one of the ghost models.

"What do you think?" Andy's eyes moved over the other framed and matted pictures that surrounded the _Runway_ cover.

"I love it, but then I'm biased. It was my first _Runway_ cover."As Bridget stared at her picture, Andy wondered if she was trying to recall the young woman in the photograph.

"It was a beautiful cover. With your auburn hair up, you looked so sophisticated." Andy turned and smiled at the woman. "It looks wonderful down though."

Bridget nodded her thanks. "Was this your idea?" The ghost waved at the pictures arranged on the wall. They were all from the last shoot Bridget and others worked on.

"Yeah, I'd been thinking about it for a while." Andy fluffed her bangs as she tried to decide if she liked the way everything was organized.

"Vivian says that you're in charge around here," Bridget murmured.

"That's funny. I always thought Vivian was in charge." Andy grinned at the ghost. "Miranda loved the idea of a museum when I suggested it, but she knew that the E-C board was too cheap to fund something like this. So she set up a foundation to pay for everything." Andy shrugged. "I'm on the committee that runs the museum."

Without saying anything Andy and Bridget wandered along looking at the rest of the pictures arranged on the wall. They then turned their attention to the couture draped mannequins in glass display cases.

"I'd like to tell your story," Andy said in a nonchalant way.

Bridget raised an eyebrow and continued to study the formal gown in the case. "I thought you were a reporter? I'm old news."

Andy shook her head. "I also like to think of myself as a storyteller. I'd like to hear your story." She looked around for the ghost's absent companions. "I'd like to tell your friends' stories as well."

Bridget glanced at Andy. "I'll talk to the girls. We'll see."

Andy dipped her head. "Thank you." She watched Bridget fade away.

The next evening Andy was wandering the museum as she waited for Miranda. They were on their way to dinner when Miranda received an overseas call. Miranda promised it wouldn't be more than twenty minutes so Andy came down to the museum. Bridget appeared just as Andy was heading towards Vivian's office.

"The girls and I have agreed to talk you." Andy's delighted expression brought a smile to Bridget's face.

"Thank you. That's great. Will this weekend be okay?" Andy was excited to get started. She immediately felt silly when Bridget raised an eyebrow and gave her a wry look.

"We'll be here," Bridget answered.

"Oh, yeah." Andy blushed. "I'll see you then." Just then her cell phone signaled a text. "I have to go. Miranda's ready. See you this weekend." Andy waved over her shoulder as she hurried towards the elevators.

xxx

Saturday morning Andy was dragging a folding chair through a door into the unoccupied area of the thirteenth floor. She paused as she stepped into the open room. 'One day,' she thought 'this will be filled with exhibits too.' The Closet took up a little over a quarter of the thirteenth floor and the Museum almost half. She planned to take full advantage of this space's potential.

Andy set the chair near one of the windows. "Ladies?" She grinned when the six ghosts appeared nearby. "Good morning."

The models nodded their greetings as they milled around, looking out the windows, or examining the space.

"How would you like to do this?" Bridget asked.

Andy pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag and set the bag on the floor by her chair. "I thought I'd talk to you as a group first and then do some one on one interviews."

Bridget looked at the others and they all nodded their agreement.

"Great. Did you work together frequently?" Andy flipped open her notebook and got her pen ready before sitting down.

A couple of the girls pointed at Bridget to act as spokesperson. Bridget rolled her eyes. "We had been friends for years and worked with each other at some point in our careers. But as a group, I think there were four times we were all together," she sighed, "before that last shoot."

Andy raised her head from taking notes. "May I ask about that day? I would like to know even though I can't include anything you say in my article."

The models looked at each other and nodded.

"Tell me about that day," Andy asked as she closed her notebook.

"It was the first time we had been back at _Runway_ since Vivian's death. I remember thinking it was hard to believe that she had been gone six months." Bridget ran her fingers through her hair. "Most of the magazine's offices had moved up to the seventeenth floor. I think there were a few stragglers still around. Since there was space available the photographer set up down here."

"Really?" Andy watched the models gather closer to Bridget. "Where?"

"Remember that open area outside of Vivian's office?" Tess said. "There was plenty of room for lights and backdrops."

Marla nudged Amanda's shoulder. "Remember saying that Vivian was probably watching over us?"

Amanda shook her head. "We had no idea."

"I remember thinking I wanted to make Vivian proud," whispered Gina.

"We all did," Denise mused. "Vivian watched out for us. For all the models," she added.

"The shoot went well. It was April so we were modeling summer dresses." Bridget reached out and took Denise and Tess' hands.

Andy watched as the models linked hands. She wondered if it was a way for them to support and comfort each other.

"When we finished we were to fly to Martha's Vineyard," Bridget continued. "We were going to get shots by the water the next day. The photographer and his staff sent us on ahead. They would follow in another plane. There were some vague plans for dinner that night."

"The pilot was young but seemed very nice," said Tess softly.

"I always hated flying in small planes." Bridget shivered. "Somewhere over the water the plane started making strange sounds. I heard the pilot radio that there was a problem with the engines."

"I remember I said _I wish I was still at Runway_." Amanda gave everyone a wry smile.

Bridget nodded. "Of course we all agreed. Denise started chanting _Runway, Runway_."

"And we all joined in," Tess chuckled.

"_Runway_, _Runway_, _Runway_, _Runway_." Bridget lowered her head and sighed. "Then it was black for about a minute and we were back here."

The girls dropped their hands but gathered closer together.

"Vivian was there," Bridget whispered. "As soon as I saw her, I knew."

"I didn't," said Denise. "I started to panic. I didn't understand what had happened."

Amanda came over and looped her arm around Denise's shoulder. "Vivian came over and wrapped you in her arms. She calmed you down." Amanda glanced at Andy. "She hugged each of us and helped us understand."

"She took care of us. I'll always love her for that," Bridget said.

Andy wiped a few tears from her eyes. "She's a good friend."

Just then Vivian popped in. "Are you alright?" She looked at each of the models.

"She became our mother hen." Bridget smiled fondly at the petite woman.

Vivian glared. "I'm more of an older sister." She swung around and pointed at Andy. "Not one word," she cautioned.

"Yes, Vivian." Andy grinned at the woman's teasing.

"I think we all fell in love with Vivian that day." Tess leaned over and kissed Vivian's cheek. "We owe her so much."

"No," Vivian shook her head. "Any debt you owed has been re-paid ten times over."

Curious, Andy tilted her head and studied Vivian. "What do you mean?" She marveled as the mood immediately lightened.

"Do you remember when Miranda interrupted your offer to let me take you instead of her?" Vivian's eyes twinkled at Andy's blush.

"Yes." Andy jabbed her finger at Vivian. "You set me up."

"I know," Vivian agreed. "When Miranda learned that you might be on this floor, she rushed down in case the girls were scaring you. She told me later that she had no idea what she was going to do but she had to protect you."

Andy melted at the thought of Miranda coming to her rescue. "That is so sweet. But I don't understand."

Bridget held up her hand to forestall Vivian. "About a year after _Runway_ cleared out of this floor, the other two magazines that had offices here folded. The entire floor was empty."

Gina stepped past Bridget. "I was wandering around when I overheard two men from building management talk about leasing this space to a brokerage firm."

Denise sidled up next to Vivian and wrapped her arm around the petite woman's waist. "Vivian tried to hide it but she was beside herself with the thought that stockbrokers might possibly take over."

Gina moved to the other side of Vivian and took her hand. "There was no way we were going to allow anyone to take over our home. So we came up with a plan."

Andy grinned at the models. "A plan that involved scaring the bejeebers out of anyone that came down here?"

Vivian chuckled. "They were very creative." She gave her friends a fond look. "Bridget is able to project a feeling of dread. Tess and Gina are quite adept at creating fog or mist. Denise's sound effects are very chilling. Marla can make the lights dim and Amanda can make it cold."

Andy mock glared at Amanda. "You were the one that chilled Miranda's coffee the first time I visited the floor."

Amanda bowed with a flourish.

"The girls were able to run off leasing agents, representatives of building management, and E-C board members. After a few years, no one wanted anything to do with the thirteenth floor." Vivian kissed Gina and Denise's cheeks before moving out of their embrace and closer to Andy. "We became a family and, even though it wasn't pretty, this floor became our home."

Andy looked up at Vivian. "It's still your home and I hope you continue to enjoy it for a very long time."

Over the next several weekends Andy interviewed each of the models. With their help she was able to track down the families they left behind. The family interviews helped Andy to fully expand on the women's too brief lives. She was a little sad when she gave Nigel the final article. There was so much more she wanted to write but no one would believe a story about ghosts haunting a deserted thirteenth floor.

xxx

Andy stood off to the side as the crowd gathered in front of the newest exhibit, The Lost Models. Her article about the lives and deaths of the six women would be published in next month's _Runway_. Today was the 46th anniversary of the plane crash that took their lives. As she researched her article, Andy tracked down all of the models' living relatives.

At some point during her interviews she decided there needed to be some way to mark the loss. Miranda had been very supportive of her final plans. Andy talked to Bridget and the others to get their approval also. She wasn't sure how the ghosts would react to seeing family members after such a long time. So she decided to ask.

Tess said she wouldn't mind seeing her brother and sister. She didn't think it would bother her since they had aged and changed over the years and she had not. For the most part, the others agreed.

Andy had worried about Bridget, but the woman assured her she would be fine. When Bridget died, she left behind a nine year old son to be raised by her mother and sister. Bridget made a point to look in on her family every year on Halloween night. Andy had been impressed with Benjamin O'Conner during her interviews. He told her that his mother had originally wanted to be a teacher, but finding out she was pregnant at nineteen had stifled that wish. Benjamin felt that his becoming a teacher honored his mother's dreams.

With the models' blessing, invitations had been sent out to their families.

Andy chewed her lip and glanced at her watch. It was time.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming today." Andy smiled briefly at the crowd. "When we started the Museum, I immersed myself in _Runway_ history. The story of the six models touched my heart. I had so many questions. What kind of women were they? What happened to the family and friends they left behind? Being a reporter, I decided to look for answers. The more I learned about these women, the more impressed I became. This exhibit," Andy waved towards the pictures on the wall and the free-standing easels, "is a tribute to their hard work.

"During my research, I met with most of you. You helped me learn about the women's hopes and dreams. I hope that my words will be a tribute to their personal lives.

"I am sorry for your losses. The women you lost that day," Andy paused, "were doing what they loved. Their jobs weren't always glamorous, but they did what they needed to do for the shot, for that picture that told a story.

"As a way to honor their lives the Foundation will be endowing six scholarships named for each of the young women lost that tragic day. I hope our celebration of their lives will give the souls of those young women some peace. Thank you." Andy nodded her appreciation for the smattering of applause and moved through the crowd to Miranda's side.

"That was beautiful, darling." Miranda kissed Andy's temple.

"Thanks, sweetheart." Andy sighed as she watched the families of the models mingle and wander around the exhibits. "Their story touched me. They were all around my age when they died. So sad," she whispered.

Miranda blanched and grasped Andy's hand.

"Miranda?" The expression on her girlfriend's face sent a cold chill down Andy's spine. "Sweetie, what's wrong?" She cupped Miranda's cheek and gazed into terrified eyes.

"I need, I, I," Miranda stuttered and started pulling Andy across the museum.

Andy hurried to keep up. She was afraid that if she paused and asked for an explanation, Miranda would pull her off her feet. She was so worried about what scared Miranda that it took her a few seconds to realize they were in Vivian's office.

Miranda framed Andy's face with gentle hands. Andy felt Miranda run her thumbs over her cheeks as she gazed into worried blue eyes.

Andy reached up and placed her hands over Miranda's. "Are you okay?" She turned her head and kissed the palm of one hand.

"I think so. Now." Miranda continued to stare into Andrea's eyes. "Since we've been dating, I've been holding back. I've been so worried about my mortality, I never considered…" She couldn't continue.

"My mortality." Andy pulled Miranda's hands down and kissed her knuckles. "I tried to tell you."

Miranda shook her head. "I heard the words, but I didn't really understand." She took a deep breath. "Andrea, will you marry me?"

A slow smile spread across Andy's face before she squealed and threw her arms around Miranda's neck. "Yes! Yes!" Andy pulled Miranda into a soul-searing kiss.

When they came up for air they realized they weren't alone.

"Finally!" Smirking, Vivian crossed her arms and stared at the couple.

"Really, Vivian. Is it too much to expect a little privacy?" Miranda sniffed and kept her arms loosely wrapped around Andrea.

"It is my office." Vivian started to fade out but paused. "Congratulations." With a final wink she was gone.

"She's going to be insufferable," Miranda huffed.

"Probably. Come here." Andy pulled Miranda back in for another kiss.


	7. Irv

**Chapter 7 – Irv**

_1987_

"Vivian," Miranda Priestly called as she entered the dark dusty office. As soon as she laid the latest copy of _Runway_ on the old wooden table, the office was transformed. The furnishings were bright and clean, it was ablaze with light, and the wooden table was replaced with a glass-topped desk. Vivian Martine, deceased former editor-in-chief of _Runway_, stood in front of the windows.

"Miranda, it is good to see you. How have you been?" Vivian glided up to her desk and pulled the magazine closer. "The cover is as beautiful as you described."

"Thank you," Miranda sat carefully in one of the visitor chairs in front of the desk. "I overheard something earlier today that I thought might interest you."

"Do tell." Vivian pulled out her desk chair and sat.

"A new member of the Elias-Clarke board of directors is intent on making a name for himself. He plans to renew the effort to lease out the thirteenth floor." Miranda pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

"What can you tell me about this board member?" Vivian asked.

"He is an obnoxious person who brags about being a self-made man while neglecting to mention that he married a very wealthy widow." Miranda grimaced. "He is the vice president of finance and his name is Irving Ravitz."

"Hmm." Vivian tapped the magazine on her desk. "I'll talk to the girls. I'm sure they will be able to dissuade Mr. Ravitz."

"I hope so. I have a feeling he's going to be trouble." Miranda shook her head as she stood.

"The magazine is doing well. What does he have to complain about?" Vivian stood and moved around her desk to join Miranda.

"He seems to forget that you have to spend money to make money." Miranda shrugged. "I'll just have to deal with his petty complaints." She nodded to her ghostly friend and left to return to her office.

Vivian watched as Miranda walked away and waited until she guessed the woman was on the elevator before calling her friends. "Girls?"

The six models popped into Vivian's office. "You called?" Gina smiled.

"I believe your talents will be needed soon." Vivian passed on Miranda's warning. When she was through the young women began brainstorming plans to take care of the intruders.

Vivian watched as Amanda, the youngest of the group, chewed her lip as she thought. Before she could say anything, Tess noticed her friend's distraction and nudged her shoulder. "You have an idea?"

"Yeah." Amanda eased over and put her arm around Vivian's waist. "Would you like to join in on the fun?"

"Me?" Vivian was surprised by the offer. The girls seemed to take great pride in protecting the thirteenth floor for her.

"If you're interested." Amanda pulled Vivian into a one-armed hug when she agreed to play along.

Vivian and the models spent the rest of the afternoon perfecting their plan. They even took time for a couple of practice runs. The next day they were ready and eager to receive visitors.

xxx

Irv Ravitz stepped out of the freight elevator into the dimly lit hallway. When he glanced over his shoulder, he blew out a disgusted breath. "Are you coming?" His companion, Charles Hardy Jr., edged out into the hallway.

"Why do we need to be here?" Irv rolled his eyes at the man's question and wondered again why he decided to cultivate his friendship. Sure Charles Hardy Sr. was a force to be reckoned with in the business world, but his son was decidedly not. In fact, the older Hardy barely interacted with his mousey son. Irv had hoped that his friendship with Charles Jr. would open a few more doors professionally and socially. So far, his relationship with the vice president of marketing hadn't done anything for Irv's prospects.

"The company hasn't been able to rent out this floor in years. It's a drain on profits. If I can determine the problem and fix it, the CEO will notice me." Quickly glancing at Charles, he amended, "Us. He'll notice us." Irv started walking down the hallway. He gave a brief nod when he heard Charles hurry to catch up. The hallway ended at a T intersection, without hesitation, Irv turned left.

The men wandered the dusty halls and inspected empty offices. Occasionally, Irv would catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. As soon as he turned his head, whatever it was disappeared. Shaking his head he stopped in the middle of a large room and looked all around. "If we can't rent out this floor, we should have building administration move the mechanicals here. Then we could lease out space on that floor and fully utilize this one"

Charles shook his head as he looked around. "Someone suggested that a few years ago," he murmured. "They did a study and determined it would be cost prohibitive to move the equipment and re-route all of the ducting and electrical lines."

"Humph," Irv grumbled. He glared when Charles jumped and spun around. "What is your problem?"

Charles swallowed and turned around. "I thought I saw something."

"Shadows," Irv grunted and continued his tour of the thirteenth floor. With only the emergency lighting on, it was easy to imagine something lurking around the edges of the rooms. It also didn't help that it was evening and there was no sunlight streaming in the dusty windows.

The men continued to wander the thirteenth floor. As time went on, Irv noticed that Charles seemed to become more anxious. He didn't want to admit it, but Irv also felt a building sense of dread.

Charles jumped again and looked nervously at Irv. "We're being herded," he whispered.

"What are you talking about," Irv bit out. He felt like his skin was crawling.

"The shadows," Charles said in a low voice. "When they block a hall, you go where they aren't."

Irv stared aghast at the man. "Ri, ridiculous," he stammered. However, when he saw a clear hallway, he hurried toward it.

Soon they found themselves in a large open area. It might have been a bullpen in a previous existence. Dark offices lined the outside wall. Through open doors, Irv glimpsed views of the dark New York skyline. Suddenly a cold draft brushed his cheek and a light fog seemed to waft up from the floor.

Charles held out his hand. "That's cold. Where is it coming from?" he asked.

"Air conditioning must be messed up. There's probably an air duct above us," Irv said as he and Charles craned their necks searching the ceiling tiles for a grated opening. The men exchanged looks when neither could determine the source of the breeze or expanding fog. Slowly they made their way across the room.

"Did you hear that?" whispered Charles. He stopped and looked around trying to determine where the sound came from. Irv watched as his friend started shaking. Before he could berate Charles for being a fool, he heard it too. A low moan seemed to be coming from one of the offices they had just passed. The longer they listened, the louder it became.

"That's it. I'm leaving!" Charles shouted as he ran toward the hallway.

Irv just stared, shocked when the man broke and ran. "Idiot," he muttered even though he was about thirty seconds from bolting. Irv decided to call it a night, when the lights popped on in one of the offices near the corner of the room. Irv frowned as he stared at the light spilling out of the doorway. Nervous, but still curious, he slowly made his way to the doorway and crept into the brightly lit office. The room was bare except for an old wooden table and two metal folding chairs. Irv wondered if there was some kind of electrical malfunction that caused the lights to come on.

Suddenly the lights went out, including all of the emergency lighting. Irv froze next to the doorframe. Before he could move, the lights popped on again. Standing in the middle of the empty office was a ten foot tall black robed figure. The huge black scythe it held could only mean it was the Grim Reaper himself. A boney hand extended from a billowing black sleeve and beckoned Irv to come closer. Irv shrieked, turned, and ran.

_2009_

Irv wandered around the _Runway_ museum in a sour mood. He hated that this place existed. The only reason he was here now was because the entire Elias-Clarke board of directors had been invited to celebrate the expansion of the museum. Other than the generous portion taken up by the Closet, the rest of the thirteenth floor was now part of the _Runway_ museum. Representatives from several other fashion publications, fashion-focused academic institutions, and a few local design houses were currently mingling and admiring the expanded exhibits and collections.

As far as Irv was concerned, a few well placed incendiary devices would do wonders for the entire floor. He finished his drink and looked around for one of the ubiquitous waiters to get a replacement. Once he exchanged his empty glass for a full one, he mentally groused that even the champagne was of a higher caliber than that served at any normal _Runway_ celebration. "Only the best for that bitch," he sneered under his breath.

His hatred for the museum was only eclipsed by his loathing for his nemesis, Miranda Priestly, and by extension Andrea, call me Andy, Sachs. Publicly the museum's purpose was to highlight _Runway_'s history in publishing and fashion, but he knew it was just a strategy to glorify and expand Miranda's influence on the industry. With the goodwill and favorable press this damn museum generated, he'd never be able to get rid of the old bitch.

Irv drained his glass and snagged a fresh drink as he wove his way through the crowd. Soon he became fed up with hearing everyone praise Miranda, the museum, and Andy Sachs. He needed a few minutes of peace and quiet. As he surveyed the room he noticed that the guests were curiously absent from the corner housing the re-created office of Vivian Martine. Destination decided upon, Irv plowed through the throng with a single minded intensity.

Andy took a sip of champagne and sighed. Tonight's celebration was an unqualified success. All of her planning and hard work had paid off with good publicity and an increase in donations to the Priestly Foundation for the _Runway_ Museum. She couldn't wait to get home and spend some quality time with Miranda. They had both been so busy the past few weeks, the only times they had been together had been late at night when they fell into bed. Unfortunately, one or both would immediately pass out from exhaustion. "Where has my lovely fiancée wandered off to?" Andy whispered to herself as she gazed around the room. It didn't take long to locate Miranda talking to several representatives from the Fashion Institute of Technology. Satisfied that Miranda would be occupied for a while, Andy eased through the crowd and made her way to Vivian's office.

Andy let out a sigh of relief as she slipped into Vivian's office. She set her empty glass on the corner of the glass-topped desk before softly calling, "Vivian?"

Vivian materialized behind her desk. "Darling, the party is out there," she waved towards the door. "What are you doing in here?"

Andy ran her fingers through her hair. "Hiding," she said with a wry grin. "I didn't realize how exhausting schmoozing was."

Before Vivian could respond to Andy's comment, she whispered "Incoming" and disappeared.

"Good evening, Ms Sachs," Irv slurred.

Andy rolled her eyes before turning to face the chairman of the Elias-Clarke board of directors. "Hello, Mr. Ravitz. Are you enjoying yourself this evening?" Andy pasted on a courteous, albeit fake smile. If there was one thing she learned at Miranda's side, it was how to be charming to the loathsome.

"Thought I heard you talking to someone," Irv said as he edged into the office and looked around.

Andy shrugged. "That was me. Sometimes I talk to myself when I'm working on a story." She wondered how much the man had to drink. Irv seemed to be taking extra care with his steps as he slowly prowled the perimeter of Vivian's office. The only time he hurried was when he slipped past the desk. Once he was clear, he returned to the doorway.

Irv scowled as he looked around the office. "I don't like this place," he muttered.

"Why?" Andy asked, stunned by Irv's words.

"It's like a freaking shrine to two bitches," Irv growled. "This dead one," he waved at the glass-topped desk, "and that one out there." When Irv jerked his thumb over his shoulder, it was clear to Andy that he was referring to Miranda.

"Wait one minute, you." Andy froze as she felt the soft tendrils of cold air brush the back of her neck. She watched Irv turn a pasty white as he stared at a point over her right shoulder. Before she could make a move, Irv bolted from the office.

Andy turned and glared at the ten foot grim reaper standing behind Vivian's desk. She hated to admit it, but the huge ass black scythe was a nice touch. "Seriously?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Miranda was on her way to Vivian's office when Irv ran past her on his way to the exit. "That was curious," she murmured. She couldn't remember ever seeing the man move so quickly. Considering the direction he was coming from, Miranda had her suspicions as to what may have prompted Irv's sudden departure.

"Andrea?" Miranda glided into Vivian's office and slipped an arm around Andrea's waist. "What was Irv doing in here?" She gave her fiancée a chaste kiss on the temple. When Andrea fumbled with an explanation, Miranda knew she had guessed correctly.

Before Miranda could press the issue, Vivian offered an innocent sounding explanation. "We were just renewing old acquaintances."

Miranda raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really." Her fiancée mirrored Vivian's innocuous look. However, neither the ghost nor her fiancée were particularly convincing. She would chat with Andrea later to learn the truth. "Darling, Charles Marlin from the Fashion Institute is looking for you. He wanted to discuss the loan of several exhibits." She moved a lock of hair behind Andrea's ear.

"Thanks. Be right back." Andrea kissed Miranda's cheek. Before she left the office, Andrea turned and pointed at Vivian. "We'll talk later." She was through the door before Miranda could ask what was going on.

"Have you set a date?" Miranda heard Vivian's question but her attention was firmly on Andrea's progress across the room.

"We're getting closer." Miranda sighed and pulled her focus back to her friend. "It should be some time in the next four months. Neither of us wants to wait."

Vivian moved towards the windows. "I can't wait to see the pictures. You will both be lovely brides." She leaned against windowsill, gazing out at the view.

"Actually, Andrea and I are planning a very small ceremony. Only family and close friends. There will be a larger reception later." Miranda walked over and stood next to Vivian.

"That sounds lovely," Vivian murmured.

"Andrea would like to have the ceremony here." Miranda smirked at Vivian's reaction.

"Really? That's wonderful," Vivian laughed.

"I thought it was an inspired idea. You and the models will be most welcome." Miranda smiled at her friend.

"I can hardly wait," Vivian said gleefully.


	8. Helen

**Chapter 8 – Helen**

"Hello, Vivian."

Startled, Vivian shot out of her chair. She had been spending a quiet evening paging through the latest _Runway_ magazine. It was late and the floor housing the Closet and Museum was deserted. How had this woman snuck up on her? Vivian glared at the statuesque brunette. Wearing a tailored dark gray Armani pantsuit and black and red Christian Louboutin five inch heels, the woman looked as if she stepped out of a _Runway_ photo spread.

"Who are you?" Vivian knew she sounded harsh but she didn't care. No one had been able to surprise her in years, certainly not since her death. She didn't enjoy the sensation of being caught off-guard.

"My name is Helen. I'm sorry that I startled you." The gentle smile and sparkling blue eyes suggested to Vivian that Helen wasn't the least bit apologetic. "Please, sit. I won't take up much of your time," said Helen.

Vivian slowly sank back into her chair as Helen prowled her corner of the _Runway_ Museum. There was something strange about her visitor, Vivian thought. She watched the woman pick up various knick knacks before setting them down and moving on to something else. After several minutes, Vivian realized the woman wasn't one of the living. But she wasn't a ghost either. "What are you?" she whispered. For the first time in her memory, she was afraid.

Helen glided back across the office and sat in one of the visitor chairs facing the desk. "I'm a representative." She leaned back and crossed her legs.

"Who do you represent?" Vivian pressed her hands against the desktop. She wondered how she could feel so cold. The sensation of heat or cold had ceased with her death. Was this what dread felt like?

"Let's just say the Universe." Helen flicked her fingers toward the window. "She goes by many names."

Vivian's eyes practically popped out of her head. "God? You represent God?" She trembled at the thought that God had sent a representative. "Wait." The entirety of what Helen said sank in. "God is a woman?"

Helen threw her head back and roared with laughter. Crossing her arms, Vivian glared and waited for her visitor to compose herself.

Wiping her eyes, Helen wound down to a few chuckles. "Thank you, I needed that." She took a deep breath and smiled at Vivian. "The Universe has many names and aspects. I prefer to relate to the feminine."

Vivian stared at Helen and slowly relaxed. "Why are you here?" She cringed at the break in her voice.

"A friend of yours has been worried about you." Helen winked and pointed. "She prays for you every night."

"Me? But I don't …," Vivian shrugged, confused.

"You don't deserve or need prayers?" Helen tilted her head as Vivian struggled to understand.

"Who?" Vivian rubbed her forehead as she thought.

"Andrea Sachs." Helen folded her hands in her lap.

"Andy?" Vivian ran her fingers through her hair. "What is she worried about?"

Helen sighed and flicked an imaginary speck of lint from her knee. "Andrea has a good heart. She prays." Helen stopped herself and held up a hand. "Sorry, she doesn't refer to what she does as prayer. She worries, so she talks to a Higher Power." The woman stood up before walking over to the window and staring out into the night. "Andrea asks that Caroline and Cassidy are kept safe. She worries about Miranda working too hard and whether her friends are happy." Helen turned and leaned against the window sill. "She is especially worried about what will happen to you."

Vivian shook her head. "I don't understand. I'm a ghost."

Helen snapped her fingers. "Exactly. She worries that at some point in the future, _Runway_ will be no more, and that you will be stuck in an empty building." Helen walked back to the visitor chair and sat down. "She's also concerned about the models."

The former editor slumped back in her chair. "She never said anything."

Helen gave Vivian a gentle smile. "She prayed. The Universe/Higher Power/God heard Andrea's prayers and decided to clear up a misconception." She waited a beat for Vivian to look her in the eye. "Just because you did not pass on to the afterlife when you died, does not mean that the door is forever closed to you."

Vivian sat up straight and stared at Helen in disbelief.

Before she could say anything, Helen continued. "You asked to stay at _Runway_ so your wish was granted. The same goes for the models. If at some point in the future, you no longer wish to continue here, you may come home."

Vivian was stunned. She had never considered that her existence would change. For so many years her world consisted of a dark dusty space that she transformed into a comfortable memory. If Helen had come to her back then, she probably would have moved on to the afterlife. But when the Closet and Museum came to the thirteenth floor her existence became interesting again. She had several friends now and looked forward to each day.

Finally, she looked a Helen. "Thank you. I appreciate you letting me know. I'll talk to the girls. Although, I don't think they are in any hurry to leave the Closet." Vivian grinned. "They love going through the dresses."

Helen dipped her head. "You are welcome. As I implied, there is no rush. The next time Andrea prays, she will experience a feeling of well being. Her worries concerning you will fade away."

Vivian had a hard time wrapping her mind around the selflessness of her friend. "God sent you here because Andy prayed?" She paused as Helen nodded in agreement. "Does Andy ever pray for something for herself?" It wouldn't surprise her if Andy pushed her personal wishes aside for others. Helen was correct when she said Andy had a big heart.

"Well, there is one thing," Helen said with a sly smile. "But I suppose it's also for Miranda." At Vivian's confused look, Helen stood up and started walking away. "If I were you, I would stick around for a while. Especially this next year. Life is going to get interesting."

Vivian's mouth dropped and she watched the strange woman disappear. "Holy shhhh." She bit her lip. "Well," she muttered as she stood and started for the closet. "Interesting indeed."


	9. The Twins

**Chapter 9 – The Twins**

Nigel walked through the Closet letting everyone know that the Museum would be closed for a while. Once he passed through the glass doors between the Closet and the Museum, he entered a code into the cipher lock that would secure the opening. On the other side of the vast room, Serena hung a closed sign on the door as Emily entered her code locking the doors. The three friends met in the center of the space and waited.

Andrea Sachs Priestly and her wife, Miranda Priestly, carefully set their burdens on the glass-topped desk in Vivian Martine's recreated office.

"Vivian," Miranda called softly as she fussed with her bundle.

Andy looked up from her efforts and gave Vivian Martine a blinding smile when the ghost popped into view. "Hey, it's good to see you."

Vivian rounded the desk to stand next to her friends. She regretted that she was not able to give Andy a hug. "Hello, Darling, I've missed you. Miranda, it's good to see you." Her eyes lit up when she saw what the couple had brought. "Are these?" She reached out even though she couldn't touch.

"Yes. Vivian, I would like to introduce our daughter, Vivian Marie Priestly." Andy picked up the baby, freeing her from the carrier. She pulled the blanket back and turned towards the ghost.

"And I would like to introduce our son, Martin Alexander Priestly." Miranda cradled the sleeping boy in her arms and moved so that Vivian could better see both of her namesakes.

Vivian covered her mouth with her hand. "You, you," she stuttered. Swallowing, she attempted to compose herself. "I am honored," she whispered.

Andy smiled as she stroked baby Vivian's cheek. "Miranda and I thought it would be appropriate since you helped bring us together."

Miranda stifled a laugh as she rocked her son in her arms. "Manipulated is more like it."

Vivian could hardly tear her eyes away from the little bundles. "Oh please, you were meant for each other." She sighed as she watched her friends cuddle their children. "Congratulations."

Andy leaned in to kiss the air near the ghostly cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.

The End (for now)


End file.
